


That One Time In A Hot Spring

by Dandelioff



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cobb Vanth is sexy as hell, Din needs to relax, Hot Springs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Saladin - Freeform, Sex in a Hot Spring, Spoilers for Chapter 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandelioff/pseuds/Dandelioff
Summary: I watched Chapter 10 last week and I absolutely had to see Vanth and Din in the hot springs. This is basically a rewrite of the episode to include Cobb Vanth.Contains spoilers for the entirety of Chapter 10.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cobb Vanth, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin & Cobb Vanth, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Peli Motto, Din Djarin & Cobb Vanth, Din Djarin & Frog Lady (The Mandalorian TV), Din Djarin & Peli Motto, Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth, Eggs & Baby Yoda
Comments: 30
Kudos: 344





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The NSFW content begins in Chapter 2. Enjoy.

They’re standing by Mando’s speeder, the exaltation of having killed a Krayt dragon still singing in their veins. Vanth hands over the final piece of his armour and can’t help the smile that graces his face as he gazes at the bizarre Mandalorian in front of him. “I can’t believe your great plan was to get eaten,” he says, voice coloured in disbelief. “What if it had decided to bite you? Take a tiny nibble at your arm or your shiny head. Can’t imagine you’d be able to shock your way out of it missing vital body parts.” He jerks his head towards the baby, who’s too busy slapping his tiny hands against the covered slab of meat to pay the adults any attention. “Then I’d be forced to take care of this little womp rat, probably traumatized after watching his dad become dragon-chow. Who even knows what he eats?” He throws his hands up as he delivers his last line, voice edging towards overwhelmed.

Mando snorts and begins securing his newly acquired possessions to his speeder. “I knew what I was doing,” he says, in a gentler cadence. “I’ve done this before.” 

“What, get eaten by a beast with teeth the size of my entire body?” Vanth interrupts, voice dry as the desert around them.

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Mando snaps. 

“Oh, I’m the ridiculous one?” 

“I meant,” Mando asserts, raising his voice to be heard over Vanth’s incredulous squawks, “I’ve been in impossible situations before, and walked it off. It’s what I’m good at. And so has the kid, for that matter. He’s tough.” He sounds distinctly amused as he continues, “I’m flattered by your concern, though. And your offer to take care of the sprog.”

“Oh shut up,” Vanth replies, cheeks flushing. He glances to the side and watches the baby babbles to himself, ears fluttering in the slight breeze. “He’s a cute kid,” he says, smile dopey. The baby looks up at him and grins, head cocked and tiny fists clenching in an unmistakable request. He obliges, and finds his breath catching in his throat as he gazes at this impossibly small being he holds in his arms. 

“Is my forearm longer than his entire body?” His voice is whisper soft. He suddenly pulls the baby closer, rests him against his chest and ducks his head to speak to him. “Don’t worry baby, I won’t drop- oh. Oh. Are you nuzzling? Do you want a hug?” His adoration is palpable, both in his tone and they way his arms curl tighter around his precious cargo.

He looks up and faces Mando, who is relaxed, but still clearly frozen in the act of finishing his packing. Vanth feels his heart clench in his chest. He clears his throat and startles Mando out of his stupor. “Right,” Mando says gruffly, “I’ll be needing that now.” He reaches for the baby, and Vanth reluctantly hands him over to be tucked into his satchel. He tries not to notice how their fingers brush, Mando's fingers sliding against his before quickly being retracted.

“I suppose that’s that, then.” Vanth says, rubbing the back of his neck. His stomach clenches and his chest feels tight. “This was fun. I owe you a debt of gratitude, my friend.” He's trying not to think of ways to make this conversation longer, maybe ask Mando to hang around for a little while more. He holds a hand out and Mando grasps it in a firm shake. “I hope our paths cross aga-.”

"Come with me", Din says abruptly, looking up from their clasped hands. Vanth's lips are quirked in a wry smirk, but his gaze is shadowed. "What?" Vanth asks, clearly wondering if he’d heard correctly.  _ What is Mando doing? _

"I said,” Din repeats, “Come with me." He cocks his head when Vanth does nothing more than gape at him. "You're not  _ afraid _ , are you?" 

Vanth’s mouth snaps shut in affront and he puts a hand on his hip. “You’re doing a fine job of convincing me to join your crew. Besides, I just didn't think I'd made that big of an impression is all, little old me from a town you can't even find on a map. You really want me traipsing along beside you, bounty hunter in training? What would I even do?”

“Actually, I was thinking of taking you on as a babysitter.” Vanth feels the back of his neck heat up. He turns to leave. “Wait,” Mando says, squeezing his hand, which he’s shocked to realize is still firmly laced with Mando’s. “That was a joke. I thought it...it was meant to be funny.” He sounds apologetic. “My offer was serious. Come to Mos Eisley with me. I’ll see if I can find you a weapon, since I’m taking the one you have. You fought with honour and skill, and it’d be a shame to see it go to waste. “ 

“Just until Mos Eisley?” Vanth clarifies. “And you’ll be buying me armour.”

“Yes.” 

Their hands are still clasped together. Vanth finds himself staring at the armour, wondering what expression Mando’s face holds. He can hear the child cooing, probably picking up on the tension thickening the air between them. His head feels strangely light. He finds himself nodding, almost without conscious thought. 

“Alright. Let’s do this.” He slips his hand out of Mando’s and ruffles his hair, suddenly bereft. His fingers tingle in his gloves. He forces his gaze away from the blank visor and turns to the baby. He grins brightly. “Hey kid. Looks like you’ll be escorting me to Mos Eisley. Tell me, how is your father as a travel companion? Does he snore? How often does he take breaks to piss?”

Din sighs in exasperation. “Get your speeder prepped, Vanth. Stop corrupting my kid.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” he says, raising his hands up. “Tell your scary father to stop threatening me, kiddo.” 

He turns and walks away, shooting a wink over his shoulder. “Try not to miss me too much. I’ll only be a minute.” 

It takes him more than a minute. Closer to an hour, really. Even the goodbyes, which were more ‘see-you-laters’ than ‘I’m off to gallivant into space with a man I met less than a week ago, but he sounds hot and he has a cute kid’, seemed to have an air of finality to them. But after many tearful hugs, overly firm pats on the back, and declaring of loyalty to Weequay‘s cantina and Weequay’s cantina alone, Vanth is finally ready to leave.

He meets Mando on his speeder, where it’s been idling for a good few minutes. If he hadn't been sure that speeders were inanimate and could not actually express feelings, he’d swear that it looks at him very disapprovingly. As it is, the growl of the exhaust sounds remarkably like a vocalization of Mando’s own exasperation. 

“Ready to go? We can reach Mos Eisley before sundown if we leave right now.” He can’t tell if he’s vibrating because of the vehicle he’s straddling, or the excitement thrumming in his bones. He feels breathless already, and their speeders haven’t moved so much as an inch.

"It's Mos Eisley, not Coruscant. You’ll be back before the week ends.” 

“Hey, you can never be too sure. Now if you’re absolutely certain we don’t need to stop by to pick up anything from my house-”

“No. We don’t. Your pack has a set of spare clothes, water, some Tusken rations, and I have enough credits to cover whatever piece of weaponry catches your eye. Now can we please get a move on.”

“Alright, alright. Geez.” He rolls his eyes and makes a face at the kid. “This what you gotta deal with all day?” He asks, jerking his thumb at Din. “You have my sympathies.”

He settles down in his seat and starts the engine. Beside him, he can hear Mando do the same. Before he knows it, they’re speeding through flatlands and canyons, the sun beating down on their backs. Entirely predictably, it turns into a race. There’s no need to verbalize it; a sideways glance and a little extra burst of speed conveys enough.

They’re neck and neck, egging each other on, and so focused on their little game, that neither of them notice the tripwire. Until they plough through it, speeders, baby, and all. They take a violent tumble, flying off of their pinwheeling vehicles and crashing painfully into the sand. 

Vanth manages to tuck and roll behind a tiny outcropping of rocks and lifts his head just in time to see Mando get shot in the helmet by two humanoids...and a Jawa? He watches Mando shake it off, and turns to survey the area. The blood freezes in his veins when he hears them reach for the child. Heart in his throat, he lunges for the one nearest to him and they slam into the ground. They roll around in the dust, grappling for the blaster, before Vanth manages to grab it and knock him out. He lies on back, wheezing, sweat running in rivulets down his face and neck.

It takes him a moment to realize that the only sounds he can hear are his own harsh pants. He swivels, mind stuttering through a dozen terrible scenarios, and finds Mando in a standoff with the Jawa. The Jawa who is holding a knife to the baby. His vision flashes red. He lunges forward, fully intending on getting his hands around the Jawa’s neck, when he’s grabbed around the waist. He flails. Mando’s grip doesn’t falter. Vaguely, he registers Mando say something, but he can’t be bothered to focus over the blood rushing in his ears.  _ What is Mando doing. The child. He’s got to get the child. _ But then the child is being lowered to the ground and he’s toddling as quickly as his little legs can carry him towards them. Vanth falls to his knees when Mando releases him to scoop up his child. He sees them comfort each other, and turn as one to activate the jetpack the Jawa was making off with, and turn the thieving Jawa to crisp.

He returns to the world in increments, head clearing and limbs ceasing their trembling. A hand drops in front of his face and he follows the limb to Mando’s pauldron and the child sitting on it. He grasps it and lets it pull him up. 

“What was that?,” Mando asks, once he regains his bearings. 

“Nothing,” Vanth insists. “Just, remnants, is all. Kids getting hurt- I don’t deal with that very well. Never have.” His hand absently traces a figure on his back. He shakes his head to dispel the vestiges of old pain creeping in. “Forget about it,” he insists. “We need to focus on getting to Mos Eisley.” 

Without waiting for a response, he begins rooting through the debris for salvageable items. A silent moment later he feels Mando begin to do the same. The kid entertains himself by picking up anything shiny that can fit in his grasp and displaying it to them for approval. 

Soon enough, they have their packs redone and armour stacked. It is  _ not  _ a light load. He looks at Mando, looks at the pile and then looks at Mando again. “Is this when you tell me I can put it on, so it makes travelling easier?”

“No.” Mando deadpans.

“Yeah,” Vanth sighs, shakes his head. “Didn’t think so.” He reaches for the baby. 

“What are you doing?” Mando asks him.

“ _ Well _ ,” he shrugs, “ _ someone’s _ gotta lug this heavy pile of shin-guards and pauldrons the rest of the way. Since I’m holding this little green thing,” he raises the kid to eye-level and gives him a little wiggle. “It can’t be me.” The child chooses right then to supplement their conversation with a happy giggle, clearly pleased with his spot in Vanth’s arms. He bounces in place, all wide-eyed, floppy-eared innocence, and Mando is sold.  _ Such a softy.  _ Vanth grins in victory. “See, he agrees with me. That beskar cannot be nice to sit on.”

He turns and begins leading the way. “Hurry up, Mando. We’ve got a long way to go.” 

  


`

They reach Mos Eisley just after sun-down and head to a cantina, deftly evading the shifty-eyed, sticky-fingered locals. Low sounds of chatter and the clink of glasses and credits landing on tables greet them as they enter. They walk towards a table in the far corner, occupied by a curly haired human who he finds out is called Peli, and her companion. Her eyes widen as she catches sight of them, greeting them loudly as they reach within earshot. Vanth is surprised to find himself  _ unsurprised _ when her first question to Mando is to ask him if he’d killed the Mandalorian he was hunting. He decides he likes her, for her straightforward no-nonsense attitude, and shameless hustling of Mando. 

Their conversation easily spins from topic to topic, as they discuss Mos Pelgo, then Peli’s repair-hangar, their disastrous first meetings with Mando. It’s a pleasant finish to what has been a truly taxing day. Of course, the thought has barely crossed his mind before Peli brings up the possibility of finding other Mandalorians. His smile turns fixed.  _ How could he have forgotten about it already? It was the most important thing he'd managed to pry out of Mando on their trek _ . He can feel the child turning to glance up at him, little claws patting his palm, but his eyes are glued to Mando’s slumping shoulders, and the refusal that he’s about to offer. For all that Mando has changed his life’s purpose to taking care of his child and locating his family, his word means that much more to him. He promised Vanth a chance to explore Mos Eisley and find a weapon as worthy as the armour he’d given up- and Mando would hold fast to it, even if that meant setting back his search. Vanth couldn’t watch him do it. 

He clears his throat loudly, and the heads snap in his direction. He licks the sweat beading above his lip. For one last moment he wonders if he’s doing the right thing. He pictures in his mind his tiny village, with its one school, one cantina, and now one less monster- is he really prepared to leave it all behind for this Mandalorian? He wavers. Then he thinks of their arduous walk through the desert- the snippets of their lives they’d shared, Mando’s obvious love for his child, his waning hope of ever finding his family- and firms his resolve. 

“It can wait.” He feels strangely light as he speaks, mind clear. He’s doing a good thing. He’d lost his own family through no fault of his, but if Mando has the slightest chance at being reunited with his again, Vanth certainly isn’t going to be the one to delay him over some misplaced sense of duty. “Finding me a weapon,” he clarifies. “I have my trusty blaster,” he pats the holster at his hip. “This girl’s been with me through more than just an invasion by a jumped-up mining collective. It’ll do until we get back from wherever you need to go next.” It isn’t until the last line leaves his mouth that he realises that he means it. He isn’t just going to wait here in this podunk town while Mando goes hurtling through who knows what dangers. Not to mention dragging the kid along with him. No, Mando needed back-up, and Vanth would be his, for as long as the path allowed it.

When Mando doesn’t say anything, Vanth finds himself rushing to fill the silence. “I’ve survived years without the armour, and who knows, we’ll probably find something really spectacular where we go next.”

“ _ We _ ?” Mando finally responds, in a tone that’s probably meant to be intimidating but comes out endearingly hopeful. “Yeah,” Vanth sighs. “I’m coming with.” He looks at the baby in his lap and gently drums his fingers on that soft wrinkly forehead. The baby giggles and grabs his finger between his palms and turns it over, curiously examining it. His voice sounds all sorts of besotted as he reasons, “It’s all his fault. Your kid is too damn cute and now I’m attached. You’re not getting rid of me.” 

He can practically see the cogs whirring in Mando’s brain as he searches for an argument. “Don’t try and scare me off now. Not when your armour is still covered in green slime and your kid is trying to eat my hand. Your quest is important to you, and I’d like to help. That’s all there is to it.” He turns to Peli. “Where did your associate say the Mandalorians were?”

She stares at him for a second before huffing bemusedly. “He didn’t. He said he had a contact who could  _ take  _ you  _ to  _ the Mandalorians, for a small fee.”

“What fee?” he asks, when it’s apparent Mando still hasn’t found his tongue.

“Well,” she says, shaking her head and standing up. “I think it’s better if you come and see.” 

He gets up to follow her, holding the baby tight in the cradle of his arm, when Mando puts a hand in front of him. “Vanth,” he says, tone oddly formal and stilted. “Thank you. You’re right, this quest is everything to me at this moment. I swear, one way or another, I  _ will _ find you worthy armaments and bring you home.” 

He nods solemnly, eyes grave. “No thanks necessary, Mando. It’s what friends do.” He claps a hand on Mando’s pauldron. “Now let’s go before she decides not to wait for us.”

At Peli’s hangar, they realise that her contact is still a ways away. Mando decides to use the time to clean up, and takes the baby with him. Apparently he gets irritable when there’s sand in his robes. Vanth is unceremoniously locked out when he tries to enter the famous Razor Crest after them. He walks sullenly back to Peli, and frowns when she snorts at him. 

“Cheer up,” she says, “He’s probably just cleaning his ship before you get a look at it. Force knows, that poor girl has seen better days.” He tries not to think about why that makes him feel better.

She crosses her arms over her chest, cocks her hip, and raises an eyebrow. “Now what’s your story?”

“Hmm?” Vanth says, glancing away from the closed Razor Crest door to meet her eyes.

“Wait, let me guess,” she says. “He walked into your life, probably upended something important, showed you his kid, and now you can’t bear to let him leave.” She’s grinning at the end of her piece. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re not obvious, it’s just a pattern with this one.” He can’t imagine the expression he must be making because she instantly backpedals. “Not to say he’s some sort of lecher, scoping planets for fierce young things to seduce. Bless him, he doesn’t even realise the effect he’s got.”

Vanth feels his ears turning crimson. Young?  _ Him? _ He tries to smile at her admittedly not reassuring attempt at alleviating his concerns, but it probably looks like a grimace. “Oh blast it,” she says, snapping her fingers. “I’m getting this all muddled up. Din is a good man. Rough around the edges for sure, but you can trust him.”

Vanth’s mind latches onto a single word. “Din?” he asks. 

“Yes,  _ Din _ . Don’t tell me you traveled all this way and he didn’t even introduce himself. That one, I swear.” She huffs as she moves to intercept one of her droids’ handling of their prime cut of Krayt. It smells delicious. He feels his mouth turn up at the thought of carving into it, the taste of caramelized meat and that phenomenal spice rub. His stomach rumbles like a Bantha on a diet. He claps a hand over it, mortified.  _ Please don’t let Peli have heard that _ . But when do the deities ever listen to him? She glances over with a snort. “All of you men, the same, I tell you. One whiff of food, and everything else takes a backseat."

The door to the Razor Crest rumbles open before he can defend himself. He turns to it and then immediately turns back around to face Peli, but finds her missing. Before he can do more than blink in confusion, the baby toddles over and he rushes to pick him up. 

“Hey  _ Din _ ,” he says to the gleaming Beskar-covered father who dutifully followed his little overlord’s footsteps. “Ah,” Din says, pausing. “Yes,” Vanth says. “ _ Ah. _ Peli told me your name.”

He grunts. “I forgot you didn’t already know. I’m Din Djarin.”

“Din Djarin,” Vanth repeats, smiling. “Not as much of a mouthful as I was expecting, to be honest.” He winks.

Din clears his throat. “And what were you expecting?”

“Nothing concrete, but I’d have known it if I’d heard it.” He gives him a onceover. “Nice shower? I can practically see my reflection in your visor.” He tilts his head in faux-curiosity. “You probably don’t even own a mirror, do you?” He can already see the defensiveness rising in Din’s posture, but Peli walks in before he can fluster him some more.

She introduces her friend, a woman of a frog-like species, and her clutch of eggs. That they’re meant to transport. It’s not like the weight of an entire species is being put into their hands or anything. No pressure. Piece of cake. They can definitely handle this. Din probably has an  _ excellent _ track record.

He tunes back into the conversation when Din asks him if he can understand the language their new passenger speaks. He feels his eyebrows fly halfway up his forehead in incredulity. “Din, she’s a frog.” 

“Yes.” Din nods.

“Her species lives near giant bodies of water.”

“Yes,” slightly more impatient.

Vanth’s mouth drops. He says as slowly as he can, “I’ve lived on Tatooine my whole life. The largest body of water I’ve seen is the puddle of tears I cried after watching a sad holodrama. The likelihood of me knowing her language is more remote than a Hutt feeling remorse.” he finishes, emphatically shaking his hands.

There’s an awkward pause as Din absorbs his words. “Ah,” he says, eloquently. Luckily, he’s saved from further moments of absurdity by the baby sticking his hand into the still-grilling meat. They spend the next few minutes panicking and cooing over his little fingers before Peli brings over a small canister of cool water to soothe him.

They finally get everyone on board the Razor Crest without any further incidents, and Vanth manages to finagle a few slices of the meat to tide them over for their journey. He waves goodbye to Peli, to Tatooine, and the only life he’s ever known.

He walks up the ramp and takes his first step into Din’s ship. He looks around the cool, dark interior and feels giddy with excitement.  _ He’s on a starship _ .  _ He’s going to space _ . His cheeks ache with how wide he’s smiling. He hopes Din isn’t expecting any profound observations from him, because he has no idea what he’s meant to say. He can’t even make out what he’s looking at but he’s joyously overwhelmed all the same. This is more than just a transport- it’s Din’s home. “It’s wonderful,” he says reverently.

Din gives them a tour, pointing out all the basic necessities. They pause to strap the lady’s canister down in the cargo-hold with the rest of their things before moving on to the living arrangements. Din’s steady explanation stutters to a stop as he points out his bunk. His absolutely miniscule bunk. The child is making an adorable spectacle of himself as he vaults into his own tiny hammock, rolling and giggling, but Vanth can’t bring himself to look away from where Din supposedly sleeps.

“You’re kidding,” he says. “There’s no way you actually fit in here.” He bends to take a closer look. “Not possible,” he concludes.

He’s crouching now, right at the edge of the mattress. He crawls forward and squeezes himself into the space and lies down. His feet stick out the end. “See?” he says triumphantly, looking up at Din. “I am definitely  _ so much _ taller than you, even  _ with _ the armour.” The fact is thrilling. Din doesn’t say anything. 

Abruptly, he’s thrust into the realization that he’s lying in Din’s bed. Din’s bed that he’s just crawled into without invitation. He springs up like he’s been electrocuted and clears his throat, fervently cursing his complexion and its inability to conceal a blush. Thankfully, Din chooses not to capitalize on his embarrassment, and instead continues on to the cockpit. If the rest of the tour is slightly rushed, no one mentions it.

They take their seats and Din prepares for take-off. Vanth tracks every movement of Din’s hands, the familiarity with which they fly over the controls, and wishes he could bottle his feelings in this moment, save them for sadder days. The frog lady croaks. 

It’s only once they’ve reached space, and Tatooine vanishes like a pinprick behind them that Vanth realizes he hasn’t seen the baby in a while. Din tells him not to worry about it, that at this point, he knows his way around this ship nearly as well as Din does.

“What’s he called, anyway?” Vanth asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use his name.”

Din shuffles in discomfort. “I don’t know,” he says. “And it isn’t my right to give him a name either. So I stick to baby, or child. Ad'ika, usually.”

“Ad'ika,” Vanth repeats. “Mando’a?”

“Yes. It means child.”

“Succinct. No one’s ever accused you of being terribly creative, have they?”

Din snorts. “No.” He stretches his arms above his head and stands up. “I’ll go look for him anyway. He doesn't usually stay away this long.” But he sounds unconcerned. He motions for Vanth to remain seated. “You stay. Enjoy all this empty space we’re passing through. If you’re lucky, you might even see an asteroid.” His tone is teasing. Vanth grins back.

It seems like Din is barely gone a minute before he strides back in, handing a squirming child to Vanth with a stern warning to keep him in sight at all times. He leaves again. “What did you do, baby? You’ve got your daddy all mad at you,” Vanth asks the little mischief-maker in his arms, lifting him until they’re nose to nose. He nuzzles against that sweet face and delights in the giggles that erupt. 

He falls into a doze like that, with the baby in his lap and the hum of the engines filling his ears. 

He jerks awake at the sound of an alarm, and a voice hailing the Razor Crest over the comms. In his arms, the child is clearly discomfited, face scrunched up and hands clapped over his ears. Vanth quickly stands up and starts rocking him, lest the whimpers turn to wails. His internal monologue of panicked half-formed thoughts is interrupted when the door to the cockpit slides open and Din rushes in. Vanth shushes the baby as Din answers the hail.  _ Republic X-wings _ . Vanth knows he’s gawking, but he can’t help himself. Fear mingles with excitement in his belly the longer the conversation continues. His eyes near bug out his head when he hears Din’s poor excuse about the transponder.

“I can’t believe you,” he whisper-yells across the cabin at Din. “What kind of person with an arrest warrant doesn’t know how to lie? I am embarrassed for you, Din. Truly.”

And then nothing is said for a while as they try to outpace the x-wings,  _ actual x-wings,  _ and crash onto the surface of this rimy planet. He finds himself grateful that he’d flung himself into the seat and curled his arms to completely cover the precious child in his arms the second Din had begun his escape attempt.

His brain feels like it’s been slammed around inside his head and his neck aches fiercely. He glances around and finds the lady curled under some blankets, the cockpit door open, and Din and the child missing. He wobbles to his feet, nods at her and gesticulates awkwardly in the direction of the cargo hold before stumbling his way over. 

He finds Din standing over some wreckage, baby in one hand and the canister of spawn in the other. He’s holding them as far apart as physically possible. The baby has on a fierce pout.

“What happened?” Vanth asks. “Was the little sprog hurt in the crash?”

“Hardly,” Din snorts. “The cabin door had opened and he made his way down here. He’s just upset I’m not letting him near the spawn.”

“And  _ why _ isn’t he allowed near the spawn?”

Din casts a surreptitious look over to the cockpit before lowering his voice and leaning towards Vanth. “He ate them.”

“What?” Vanth sputters.

“The spawn. I came downstairs and found him eating them. It’s also why I asked you to keep an eye on him earlier. He ate some then as well.”

Vanth can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat. “That’s ridiculous.” Except, the baby’s mouth does look suspiciously shiny and maybe the canister is a little emptier that it was before. He whistles lowly. “That’s not good.”

“No. It isn’t.” Din agrees. He tells Vanth to take the canister up to the lady while he puts the little one to sleep. They’ll start the repairs tomorrow. Of course, that plan is quickly derailed when the lady commandeers a killer droid just to call Din out on his honour. So Din ventures outside to start on the repairs and asks Vanth to stay inside, keep an eye on things. He tries. He tries  _ very hard _ to sit in the cockpit and watch over the sleeping baby, but he’s too keyed up, antsy. Always one for action over sitting on the sidelines.

He decides to go exploring. 


	2. Chapter 2

Din takes a deep breath the second he exits the Crest, hoping to calm his overeager mind. All it does, however, is bring his thoughts into sharp relief. In the last 24 hours, he’s taken on two extra passengers- one of whom he doesn’t even  _ understand _ , been handed the last lifeline of a whole entire species, caught his child snacking on said lifeline, been chased by the republic, crashed his ship into some frozen wasteland, and all his traitorous brain chooses to focus on, is  _ Vanth. _

Vanth, and how good he looks, grinning with cheekbones casting graceful shadows under the harsh Tatooine sun. Vanth, and his elegant hands, and how they’d felt clasped in his own; those long fingers curling around his shorter, stubbier ones, the tapered ends with their pale half-moon nails stark against the dark leather of his gloves. How he’d wished he hadn’t worn the gloves then, and felt the coarseness of that palm against his own, explored every callous, wrinkle, and strand of hair, from the tips of his fingers to the curve of his wrist. 

The thought doesn’t even stem from anything overtly sexual, just a raging desire to press a kiss to Vanth’s knuckles, maybe see that enchanting flush rise high in the apples of his cheeks. Of course, he can’t deny that the thought of those dexterous fingers anywhere  _ near _ his anatomy sends his libido soaring.

He forces his incriminating thoughts away from Vanth’s hands and focuses on examining the Crest. He gets the first panel open, and sees a light blinking red. His mind is instantly spirited away to the bright scarf that obscures the shapely arch of Vanth’s neck.  _ What is wrong with him. _ He’d taken the scarf off on ship, not needing the extra protection against the rough sand. Din’s probably permanently damaged the armrests of his seat with how hard he’d clutched at them to stop himself from staring.  _ It’s just a neck. Everybody has a neck. _ But it  _ wasn’t _ just the neck. Not that Vanth’s neck itself isn’t worthy of praise; in fact, if he had any talent at all, he’d write an ode to it himself. It’s what that neck leads to. A sharp jaw that he’d love to sink his teeth into, a chin he can see himself holding on to in the event that they kiss, an elegant nose with a rounded tip he’s dying to peck, and those eyes. Those expressive cerulean eyes that draw him in like a whirlpool; he could drown in their depths. Vanth’s eyes hide nothing and Din finds that he’s grateful, that he can see them flash in protective fury, turn glacial with rage. His favourite expression by far, is how those eyes soften at the corners and glow with warmth when he looks at the ad’ika. He absently licks his lips, thinks about tracing the livid scar that tracks a jagged path across his temple with his lips.  _ If he could find the men that dared mar Vanth... _

His bloodthirsty imaginings are cut short when a spark frizzes over the surface of his glove, and Din realises he’s almost crossed the wrong wires. He shakes his head and shoves his stubborn brain to focus on the mess of circuitry and mechanics that makes up the gut of his precious Crest.  _ He needs to get this fixed if they’re to make it off this planet alive. _ No more focusing on Vanth and his lean frame, or wondering how those long, long legs would look wrapped around his waist. It’s time to work.

Din’s hands are halfway into the bowels of the Crest when the child toddles up, demanding his attention. He tries to prevaricate, but the kid is insistent, so he follows. His mild annoyance persists until he reaches the other side of the ship and sees footsteps in the snow. Vanth. He turns to the child. “Go back inside and wait for me in the cockpit,” he says seriously. The child nods. Then follows him when he walks away. Din groans and picks him up. He carries the child to the cockpit, places him beside the frog lady and tells her to keep an eye on him at all times. And to keep him away from the canister, for safe measure. He then turns to the controls and contemplates his next move. On one hand, it’d alert him the second someone enters the vicinity of the crest; on the other, it might alert the Republic ships. He decides to risk it anyway and switches on the sensor beacon. A small ping in his visor tells him it's online and transmitting.

He leaves. He swears audibly as he traces Vanth’s winding path through the cavern, slowing when he hears a faint groan and...is that  _ splashing _ ?

He rounds the last corner, fully intent on tearing into Vanth for this stunt and stops dead. His mouth dries faster than sweat on Tatooine and he might’ve swallowed his tongue. He’s transfixed. His eyes can’t make sense of what they’re seeing.

It’s Vanth, but not a version he’s ever seen before. 

The cavern he’s entered is wide, stretching beyond what the eye can see. The ceiling is high and covered with glacial stalactites. There’s a skylight somewhere, casting moonlight that reflects off the walls and swathes the place in a gentle light. The splashing he’d heard, and it was indeed splashing, came from a layout of circular pools near one end. There is a large one, fed by a smaller one right beside and slightly above it, and it flows into several smaller ones at its other side. The water is a clear azure and steam rises from its surface. 

Also rising from its surface is Vanth, visible from the waist up. He's far more muscular than Din had thought.  _ Not that he's spent a lot of time thinking about the muscle Vanth is packing beneath his clothes. _ His taut abs glisten with droplets sluicing downwards, and Din aches to follow that path with his tongue, maybe get his fingers in the salt and pepper hair that trails in a line below his belly button. His eyes rove upwards to pink nipples and another smattering of hair. Vanth is facing him, and his back is slightly arched, throat bared as he lets out a wanton sound. His arms are flexed, fingers loosely resting in his hair and his eyes are closed. 

Din can feel the coils of desire stirring low in his belly, followed by a hot stab of shame. He pulls his gaze away from those mouthwatering pecs, fully intending to alert Vanth to his presence, but meets Vanth's eyes instead. He's fervently glad he has a helmet to hide his flushing cheeks. Stupid.  _ Stupid. _

Vanth smirks at him, eyes blinking languidly. "Hey Din," he says, low and sultry and not at all like he's been caught doing something incredibly foolish and dangerous.

"What are you doing?" Din replies, sounding harsher than he intends. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Vanth asks him, taking a step closer. "I'm taking a dip. But don't worry, I came prepared." He gestures towards a small ledge by the pool where a blaster and a towel are visible. 

"You have a towel?" He sounds incredulous.

"I got bored and decided to have a look around. When I stumbled onto this gem, I decided to double-back and bring a towel. This is more water than I've ever seen in one place and the warmth is doing wonders for my sore muscles." Vanth sounds entirely too unrepentant for his own good.

“You need to get out of there. It’s not safe.” Din is biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from looking at all that naked skin on display before him. He can feel his fingers twitch in an aborted attempt to touch. His pulse spikes.

“Relax, Din. We’ve been on this planet for a while and I haven’t heard a single thing moving besides us. It’s alright to relax for a little while.” He starts moving towards Din.

“The repairs-” Fuck, but he can’t focus. Vanth looks beautiful like this, relaxed and luxuriant. And the steam isn’t helping, giving this whole situation a dreamlike air. His breeches are starting to get tight. 

“Won’t take too long, you said. Besides, we also need to wait for the Republic fighters to leave, right? Come here, sit down and enjoy the water.” His voice is soothing, the pool looks so inviting, and Din finds himself caving far too easily.  _ What are you doing, _ he thinks to himself, even as his feet move on autopilot. He feels like a puppet and Vanth is pulling his strings. He tries to look around them, catalogue their surroundings, mark any obvious dangers, but Vanth is magnetising, drawing Din’s eyes to him like flies to honey.

He moves towards the ledge and takes off his boots and socks, and rolls up the pant legs of his flight suit. He’s just going to sit by the side, get his feet wet. No unnecessary risks there. But Vanth- he looks crushed. "You're not getting in?' Vanth asks him dismayed. He's waded closer to the ledge now, naked body scant inches away from Din. Din feels his breath hitch.  _ He is a grown man. They are both grown men. Surely, he can resist this enticement. _

Vanth reaches out and puts a hand on his arm. Din swears he can feel the touch through the beskar. "Take off the armour, Din. It's just us here. Relax." He strokes his fingers over Din's vambrace, up his arm and rests it on his pauldron. Din gulps.  _ He’s going to hold out. He’s not going to give in to this mindless desire. He isn’t. _ “Din,” Vanth says his name once more, imploring. Din folds like a piece of wet flimsi. Without any conscious thought, he feels his hands move to the catches on his armour, and he takes off every single piece sans helmet, Vanth’s gaze burning into every inch of skin bared. But he isn’t just gawking idly. Vanth takes the armour from him as he pulls it off, and soon they have a neat pile of beskar by Vanth's clothes and blaster. 

They stare at each other, steam swirling around them, palms damp and trembling. Vanth's hands hover over the zipper on his flight suit. Din inhales shakily and nods. Vanth's palm rests on his chest and the heat sears him. He uses his fingers to slowly pull down the zipper, hand never once lifting off his chest. Din pants like he's outrun the Coruscant security force by the time he's naked.

Vanth's fingers caressing his chest sends sparks shooting through him, and he shivers. Din is gently guided into the larger pool, and made to sit leaning against the one slightly above it. His sinks in waist deep and his eyes flutter shut, the water like a balm to all his aches. Vanth crouches over him, hair flopping onto his face and moonlight encasing him in a pleasant halo. He looks ethereal. Din's heart aches in his chest. He wishes he could kiss those lips, see if they feel as plump as they look. He wants to nip that bottom lip, bite kisses into the graceful line of his neck. Vanth beats him to it.

He lowers his lips onto Din's neck, pressing tender kisses down to his collarbones, laving the hollow of his throat. His hands trace downwards, rubbing the hair on his chest, thumbs flicking his nipples, nails scoring down his abs. Din's teeth are clenched so hard in an effort not to make any noise. His hands are trembling, ears ringing. He feels  _ so good _ . He jolts when Vanth's teeth scrape over a nipple, augmenting that electric sensation with a dull suck. His back bows in an effort to push his chest into that decadent feeling. His fingers scrabble for purchase on Vanth's back, moving to his shoulder and clenching in his hair. His legs flail in the water, but Vanth doesn't let up- wringing soundless cries and wordless gasps with his wicked mouth.

"Stop," he pleads, "Vanth, stop" he feels wrung out. "Din?" Vanth asks, head cocked and eyes concerned. He takes a moment to catch his breath. "Sensitive," he rasps out. "Too much of a good thing." His nipples feel puffy and hot, overwrought with sensation. "Oh," Vanth whispers. He places a quiet kiss on the centre of Din's chest in apology. "Thank you for telling me." The liquid warmth running through his veins has nothing to do with the heated pool. "You good for more, or do we need to take a breather?" Vanth mumbles into the skin of his shoulder, arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. His palms rubs soothing circles on Din's stach, like he's some skittish tooka in need of a hug. To his surprise, he finds himself calming under the gentle touch, muscles relaxing from when he'd unconsciously tightened them. Vanth hums approvingly. His hands renew their exploration of Din's body. 

They start low on his stomach, dip teasingly into his belly button, squeeze his hip bones and then completely evade his cock. It twitches against his thigh, almost asking Vanth for attention. Vanth grins. "Someone's eager, aren't you sweetheart?" Din snorts. "Are you talking to my prick?" "It's a lovely dick, Din. In fact, I might even say it's the nicest one on this side of the planet." "Mhmm" Din replies, amused to find that any lingering apprehension has faded. He slumps a little more in his seat.

“Oh, no. Din, sweetheart,” Vanth’s smiling at him softly. He smiles back, slightly confused, even if Vanth can’t see it. “What,” he says, when Vanth still looks at him with his head slightly tilted. “What I have in mind isn’t going to work with you half submerged,” Vanth tells him. “I need you to sit up a little higher, okay? Just so that the tops of your thighs and everything higher are above water.” Din makes a wordless noise of confusion.  _ But he’s so comfortable. _ Vanth sighs. “I learnt a lot of things, growing up on Tatooine, but the one thing  _ not _ in my repertoire is giving blowjobs underwater.” Din chokes. Vanth’s request makes sense now. He wrangles his suddenly unsteady limbs-  _ it seems his body is bound to embarrass him in front of Vanth _ \- with Vanth’s help and manages to leverage himself against the ledge behind him, so he’s only submerged from just below the middle of his thighs. 

He shudders at the sudden rush of cold that assaults him. Goosebumps emerge over every inch of exposed skin. The hickeys and scrapes Vanth has left on his neck and torso sting in the icy waft. It does the exact opposite of diminishing his arousal. His awareness of Vanth’s inviting warmth ratchets higher and he leans forward, ensorcelled. Din can see Vanth’s eyes track the droplets condensing on his skin. The tip of Vanth’s tongue peeks between his lips, and Din inhales sharply. Vanth’s answering grin is shark-like. His shivers this time have nothing to do with the chilly air. 

Vanth slides to his knees in front of him. His hands knead the tops of Din's thighs. Vanth licks his lips. His palms move slowly, massaging the thick corded muscle. Din deliberately flexes his quads, and hears Vanth's breath stutter. He huffs out a laugh. "Okay, you caught me." Vanth grins. He digs his fingers into the meat of Din's thighs. "If I die crushed between these, I'd die a happy man." Din can't remember he last time he'd grinned so much while having sex.

The thought causes him to tense up again, brows furrowing.  _ What is he doing here? _ Vanth is a good man, could become a good friend, given time. He doesn't realise he's shifting uneasily until Vanth tightens his grip on his thighs to the point of pain. He gasps, clasps his own hands over Vanth's and clings. "What's wrong, Din? What's going on in that head of yours?" "Nothing. It's nothing." "Do you still want to do this? Din, sweetheart, this is only happening if you absolutely want it to." "I  _ do _ want this. I just, " he looks into Vanth's earnest eyes and finds himself spilling his worries. "I don't want to mess this up. The kid likes you, and I think you're," he hesitates, "You're important to me." Vanth's entire countenance softens. He smiles. His hands "You won't ruin anything, sweetheart. We're going to enjoy ourselves. Now you just sit tight and let me take care of you, alright?" His voice is deeper now, smooth and sure as he speaks. He lowers his lips to Din's skin. He wants to sink into it and never leave.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Vanth whispers to him in that maddening voice. “Just relax, and let me take care of it. That’s right, I’ll take care of everything.” Vanth’s kisses burn like brands as they trail down one thigh and up the other. The hands cupping the backs of his knees gently raise his legs, so his ankles interlock behind Vanth’s back. Din shivers. He feels so exposed like this, Vanth’s gaze roving slowly over every inch of him. His thighs clench and stomach flutters, and he forces himself not to squirm. He's already falling apart, and they haven't even started. "Hurry up," he grunts, flicking his gaze around the cavern so he doesn't blow his load just by looking at the enticing picture Vanth paints, kneeling between his legs.

'Patience," Vanth says, and continues licking the crease where his thigh meets his hip, worrying the skin between his teeth. "This is a good thing, and we're not going to make it last by acting like we've just discovered masturbation." He noses closer to his cock, nudging around the base with the tip of his tongue. Din stifles a whimper. Long fingers wrap around the shaft tightly, and another hand lands on his hip, pressing him against the ground. "Don't move," Vanth says. The fingers on his hip flex. "We both know I don't have any chance at actually keeping you down, so I need you to not move.” Din hums, but his gaze lingers on the tanned fingers holding him down. He follows the graceful line of Vanth’s arms up to the dense curve of his bicep. His breathing upticks. His mind flashes to another scenario, where they’re spread out on a luxurious bed on thousand thread-count sheets, his own arms bound to a sturdy headboard, feet pushed apart, and completely at Vanth’s mercy. He has no doubt those arms hold more strength than Vanth believes, and under the right circumstance, can definitely keep him down. 

His arousal rockets; he wouldn’t be surprised if the pounding of his heart is visible through his skin. He swallows audibly and nods in acquiescence to Vanth’s command. He grabs on tight to the edge of the pool.

Vanth pushes the foreskin back and blows on the tip. Din feels the groan wrenched from his throat. Vanth smirks. The first swipe of that tongue against his tip sends him reeling. His mind is awash with sensation. Vanth's mouth is warm and plush, and his tongue is wickedly clever. The feel of the stubble on the sensitive inside of his thighs is an interesting experience, one that he's keen to feel more of.

"Please," he whispers, straining not to buck up into that indescribable heat. The harsh stone at his back is a delicious contrast to the soft velvet that envelops him. Vanth has nearly half his cock in his mouth now, and is stroking the parts of it he can't accommodate with rough fingers, slick with spit and precome. Vanth hollows his cheeks and lowers himself another inch. Din groans heavily. 

The hand on his hip moves down to fondle his balls and Din jerks. The hand instantly returns to his hip, and Vanth lifts his head to click his tongue. "I thought I told you to stay still, Din." His voice is a stern rasp. " _ Ngh _ , sorry, sorry," Din gasps out. "I won't move."

The torturous suction returns, driving Din wild. His mind turns to mush. Vanth hums, then, some insipid tune he’d picked up in that cantina on Mos Eisley. The vibration on his shaft has him squeezing Vanth’s ribs with his knees, ankles locking tighter. Vanth looks up at him through his sweaty fringe, cheeks bulging obscenely. Din swears and digs his heels into Vanth's back. Vanth moans, sucks so hard Din sees stars, then pulls off his cock with a lewd pop. He grabs one of Din's hands and wraps it around the base of his cock. "This doesn't let go until I tell you to come. Alright?" His voice is rough and his eyes are stern. Din doesn't even  _ try  _ to refuse. Vanth smiles, pleased, and gets right back to turning Din's brain to mush.

Vanth’s tongue snakes along the veins and he ducks his head lower to lick at his balls. Din squirms. Vanth presses his hips harder onto the ground, tonguing his balls. A long finger traces a path down his perineum, pressing gently and coaxing the most delicious choked-off moans out him. It reaches his furrowed hole and pauses. “This okay?” Vanth asks, resurfacing from between Din’s glorious thighs. 

It takes him a minute to even register that he's been asked a question. He cranes his neck to meet Vanth's eyes. His position is practically lithotomic, abs tense and pelvis tilted upwards. Vanth is patient, waiting for him to wrestle his syrupy mind into forming a coherent response. "Hmm" he grunts finally, petting Vanth's hair with a sluggish palm, warm to his toes by this man's concern. "Yes, you're good. Keep going." He smooths his hand over Vanth's hair once more before tightening his grip, just a gentle tug, pushing him towards his flushed cock. Vanth goes easily. 

"The things I'd do to you if we had more time'" Vanth groans into the skin of his shaft as he licks up the sides. His blunt fingernail is tracing Din's rim. "I'd splay your legs over my shoulders and just eat you out. You'd love it. I bet you can come just from having my tongue in your ass." Din whines. Vanth augments his filthy babble by alternating between biting harsh kisses onto his hip bones and thighs, and suckling the purplish head of his cock between his lips. Vanth’s finger breaches him to the first knuckle. Din’s hand flies from his stranglehold on the rim flex against Vanth’s head. His back arches, but hip stays firmly where it's been placed. He’s coming undone. 

Vanth's finger is moving inside him at a steady pace now, and his tongue and mouth are wreaking havoc on Din's penis. His vise grip around the base of his cock is the only reason he hasn't come yet. He's not above begging at this point. "Please," he says, voice cracking. "I need to come. Vanth, I need," he gasps "to come, can I"

"You beg so nicely sweetheart," Vanth pulls off his cock to tell him. Din can't help the pleading whine that escapes. "You can come, baby. I want you to come in my mouth," he says, as if he hasn't just devastated any lingering hopes Din has of making this last longer. He lowers his mouth back onto Din's cock. And then lowers it some more. The constriction is incredible. The second Din feels his cock hit the back of Vanth's throat, the hand in his ass twists sharply upwards, and Din releases his grip on his cock, vision whiting out. He comes like a freight-carrier down Vanth's throat, and feels those muscles working to swallow every drop. 

He can hear Vanth gasping, water sloshing near his legs. He looks down to see Vanth's hand under the water frenetically fisting his cock. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and his lip looks seconds away from being bitten through. " _ Fuck _ ", Din whispers, revenant. His spent cock gives a valiant twitch against his thigh. Vanth whimpers louder, hoarsely crying for Din. 

"I'm here, Vanth. Fuck, you're  _ beautiful. _ " Din is too fucked out to do much more than  _ talk _ . Vanth groans. His cheeks are flushed pink and his mouth drops open. "Din," he gasps, "Din I need-" he breaks off.

"I know, Vanth. I wish we had more time too. I'd let you fuck me. Push you down and ride you till we both can't move." His mouth has disconnected from the rest of him. "Or maybe I'd let you push me down, tie me up nice and tight. You could do whatever you want, and I'd take it, leaving me riding the edge for hours." Vanth is shaking now, head hanging low and cries turning desperate. "A whole day in bed, a week even, fucking and getting fucked; me at your mercy. You could have me begging, and I'd probably enjoy it." He's driving himself wild with his words. If he were any younger, he'd probably be up and rearing for round two already. Vanth is close, pace erratic and breathing choppy. "You like being listened to, in bed. Giving orders and having them followed. Do you like being called names? I think you do.

I bet you get off on it too, don't you,  _ Marshal" _ . Vanth drops his head onto Din's hip and comes with a broken cry. 

He strokes Vanth's hair as he shudders through his orgasm. Moves the hand to the nape of his neck, and his shoulder blades, smoothing over supple skin. His fingers catch the raised edge of a scar, as they trail over Vanth's back. He stops. Vanth is suddenly tense. "It's a slave brand," he says. "Shaped like a star. All the kids got one. I've had it so long, I almost forgot it was there." He shrugs nonchalantly, but his voice is mired in shame. 

"You survived." Din says, and moves his hand to cup Vanth's chin. "You went through something horrific and you made it out the other side. You have  _ nothing _ to be ashamed of." His voice is fierce, like he intends to make Vanth believe him through sheer force of will. "You should be proud of who you are."

But the moment is broken. Vanth shrugs, prevaricating, and separates from Din. "We should, ah, we should get dressed," he says. "Vanth" Din starts, but Vanth shakes his head. "Not now. I don't want to talk about it." He steps out of the pool, towels himself off and hands the towel to Din. They dress in stilted silence. Din has just squeezed himself into his flight suit when Vanth turns rigid. He looks up sharply. 

"Do you hear that?" Vanth squints into the far darkness of the cave. "Like something's...tearing?" Din hurriedly zips himself up and starts putting on his armour. He manages to put on his boots and the lower half of his beskar'gam when a thundering noise tears through the air; a thousand tiny footfalls crunching across the snow. Din and Vanth look at each other and then down at the armour still in a pile. "You can't put it all back on," Vanth whispers, frantic. "I know" Din snarls back. He reaches for his vambraces and Vanth raises his blaster to face the oncoming wave. 

He gets two shots in before Din yanks him by the shoulder and suddenly he's the one facing the armour pile and Din is dealing damage. "Din what the-" "Pick it up, and on my mark, we'll run."

" _ What _ !" He looks down at the pauldron and arm guards precariously balanced in the curvature of the cuirass. "Din, I was buying you time to wear-"

"We don't  _ have _ time. We have to get to the ship. So I shoot and you run. Well, we both run."

"How about _ I _ shoot and you run."

"No! I'm better armed."

"Well I'm  _ fully dressed _ !"

The tiny creatures-  _ are they spiders _ \- are inches away from their feet now, and Vanth realises that what he'd thought was a particularly inky shadow was actually moving closer. "These things have a mother." His voice is faint. "Din, she's massive."

"I can see that" comes the terse reply, Din's blaster still firing shots. "Now will you pick it up so we can  _ move _ ."

" _ Fine _ . But we are definitely talking about this later."

They run. Vanth adds his blaster to the ridiculous luggage he's juggling and sprints ahead, Din bringing up the rear with the delightful sound of explosives. He chances one glance behind him and the heat of the flamethrower nearly singes his eyebrows off.

"Keep looking forward," Din snaps. "Run faster, the big one’s getting closer!"

Her large spindly legs shatter through the ice ceiling lining the corridors they're running through. Vanth swerves and nearly drops his load, Din swears in more languages than he'll ever admit to, but they finally burst into the clearing with the Razorcrest. They throw themselves forward at a dead sprint, making it right by the door when, with an almighty crash, the mother arrives.

They stay pressed against the Crest, panting, and waiting for the worst. The monster clacks forward, ever closer, then stops and shrieks in pain. Vanth looks around and realises that  _ all _ the creatures have stopped in a small radius around them, twitching in agony. But even as he notices this, he can see a few braver ones start creeping closer. They don't have time.

"Well, Din- it's been a good run."

" _ Good run _ ? It's been less than a day. You're not dying here, get inside."

"Why, so I can tell your kid I let you get eaten by a gigantic spider this time? No way."

"This isn't like Tatooine, we don't have any backup. Listen to me and go inside."

" _ You  _ listen to me. I'm not going anywhere. We fight this thing together or not at all."

They're too invested in talking about saving each other to notice the whine of engines coming closer. The x-wings burst in with a hail of blaster fire and spur the boys into action. Din slides open the door, Vanth throws the armour in and then himself, waiting for Din to enter before closing it. 

There's silence. The Vanth says "Did you hear the-?" "The x-wings?" Din interrupts. "Not until they started shooting." 

They burst into hysterical laughter, falling onto the floor, listening to the Republic fighters decimate the spider army. They lean against each other and try to catch their breaths, but every sideways glance sets them off once more.

They finally stagger through the door when the sounds outside cease, arms around their shoulder and still chuckling weakly. The republic fighters had their hoods lowered, clearly hoping to initiate conversation. To Vanth's absolute surprise, which is valid, considering the turns his life had taken since meeting Din, Din is  _ not _ arrested. His warrant is absolved instead, and he no longer has to crash into ridiculous ice planets to avoid capture.

Vanth goes to the cockpit to check on the rest of the crew, and catch them up on the situation. Din stays behind to put on the rest of his armour, and start the repairs.

The fish lady is understandably concerned, but happy to stay inside. The child makes a beeline straight to this father. Vanth  _ does not _ get choked up at their hug. He doesn't.

The repairs get done fairly quickly, and they're soon ready to say goodbye to this frigid hovel and set off for Trask.

Once they've strapped themselves in, Din announces "First stop, we're dropping the lady off at her husband's and getting the lead. As soon as that's done, we're getting you your weapon."

"And a bed" Vanth adds. "Yours is way too small."

"Too  _ small? _ It's perfectly sized!" Din sputters.

"Yeah," Vanth scoffs, "for your child."

Din grits his teeth. "Do we have to do this right now? Can I  _ please _ take off in peace?"

"Alright, alright." Vanth holds both his hands up in a sign for peace. "Don't blame me when you're fifty with the back of a ninety year old." 

Din growls.

No more is said as the engines hum to life and the crew of the Razor Crest set off into the vast unknowns of space.

`

"Hey Din, what's that in the kid's hand?" Vanth asks suddenly.

'Hmm?" Din replies, craning his neck to take a look.

"It looks like" Vanth straightens. "Is that a spider egg?" He demands. "Wait, kid, don't" he starts, but there's a loud crack, and

"He ate it." 

**Author's Note:**

> In Rebels, these spider monsters were repelled by the transmissions emitted by the sensor beacon, which explains why the spiders had their little freak-out circle around the Crest. 
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](https://dandelioff.tumblr.com/) now! Feel free to drop by


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